Personal
by trufflemores
Summary: 6.01/6.02 reaction fic. Kurt won't say it, but Blaine knows something is wrong. The scene after Kurt rushes to the bathroom at Scandals. Angst, hurt/comfort, hints of romance. Klaine. Mentions of Blainofsky. COMPLETE.


_Let me drive you home._

Blaine didn't know why the suggestion was so insistent on his lips, but the bar was crowded and he couldn't take his eyes off Kurt, the urgency behind the request subdued by decorum, by _you're not his fiancé anymore._

Still, there was something between them, and he wasn't about to let that slip away.

_Hey. Come on. I don't want you to get hurt._

Kurt fixed him with baleful, bloodshot eyes, looking half-dead in his seat, his hair limp, his smile vanishing.

Returning from the restroom, he'd played it off, ordering a drink and laughing and smiling in all the right places as David had regaled them with a story Blaine had probably heard several times before (David was gone now; Blaine found he didn't mind where he'd run off to).

It was a good story. He should have listened.

Instead, white noise had descended, leaving everything hushed and painfully bright. The reality of their positions had hit him with sickening force; he had wanted to get up and leave, but he hadn't been able to move, transfixed to his seat, the beer in his hand still full.

He couldn't take his eyes off Kurt.

It was obvious from the moment that he had rejoined them at the counter that something was wrong. Blaine had scarcely looked at his oddly cool expression before realizing what had happened, his warm, friendly mask shattered by emotion. He'd been crying and Blaine had wanted to ask him about it, had wanted to beg Kurt to talk to him, but he hadn't pressed the issue because he knew that if there was anything Kurt hated, it was being vulnerable in public.

He'd seen it countless times firsthand, that impenetrable coat of armor sinking into place just when Kurt seemed at his weakest, preventing anyone from getting near him. Whether it was people he loved or despised, Kurt had always been capable of holding his own no matter how hurt he was until he could fall apart in private. It had made Blaine hate him at times when he had needed him and Kurt hadn't _been there, _had stood motionless or apathetic despite the force of his grief.

_Everyone grieves differently._

It had taken every ounce of willpower that Blaine had possessed not to follow him to the restroom, but he had remained in his seat, feeling sick to his stomach as he'd waited. David had brought him a drink and bought Kurt one, too, when he returned. The sickly smile at the corner of Kurt's mouth was almost worse than his paleness, but he had taken the drink and his seat too and played pretty and polite the whole time.

Twenty minutes had passed. Half an hour.

An hour.

Blaine had watched Kurt down drinks, never once looking at him, scarcely looking at David either, flashing them both the occasional smile and nod to dissuade suspicion. David hadn't noticed – he'd been warm and friendly, reaching out eagerly to Kurt's kinder side – but Kurt had been gone and the man before them had been hollow. Helpless.

_Let me take you home._

Those bright blue eyes had fixed on him, and they were beautiful, arresting. Blaine couldn't help but swallow.

Reaching out a gentling hand, he steadied him. Kurt didn't flinch but it was in his eyes, unchanging, unceasing. _Let me drive. Please._

He must have been insistent or pleading or logical enough that Kurt conceded.

When Kurt rose from his chair, he swayed. Blaine reached out to catch him, first at the elbow and then the waist when Kurt sagged into him, not bothering with appearances.

_It's okay. It's okay. I've got you._

Kurt nodded and followed his step, never once asking about David – Blaine caught his eye with an apologetic, _I'm sorry _and David nodded, sympathy in his eyes as he lifted a hand in a wave, chatting with a friend at the bar – as they stepped out of the club into the cool night air.

_Easy, _Blaine chided as Kurt sagged, pressing more of his weight on him. _I've got you. Come on._

The air was cool and Kurt shivered, following him across the parking lot without protest. As soon as Blaine had him settled in the front seat, he grabbed his jacket from the back and draped it over Kurt's shoulders. Startling, Kurt made a tiny noise of approval and reached up to grab the edge, clutching it to his chest and looking dangerously close to tears.

Hurrying around to the driver's side because he couldn't watch Kurt cry, he couldn't, Blaine stepped inside and marveled at how composed Kurt was, already blank-faced and cool once more.

They were halfway to the Hudmels' house before Kurt spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Blaine drew in a slow, deep breath before turning to look at him. "Why are you sorry?" he asked, keeping a firm grip on the wheel.

"Because you were the best thing that ever happened to me," Kurt whispered.

Blaine had to rub a hand over his trembling mouth, struggling to keep his composure and focus on the road as they pulled up to a stop sign. "Kurt."

"I'm sorry for hurting you."

"Honey – " It slipped out.

Kurt didn't yield or break or pause as he said, "I want us to get better."

Blaine didn't say anything, afraid he knew his own reaction only too well. "I know," he said at last.

He didn't need to look to see that Kurt was crying again. Instead he held out his hand over the console and felt a strange sort of relief overtake him when Kurt took it, holding on so gently.

When they pulled into the Hudmels' driveway, they didn't speak, detangling carefully, reluctantly. Almost at once, Blaine was there, holding Kurt's door open and helping him out of his seat. He draped an arm around his waist and helped him to the front door, ringing it for him as Kurt waited, silent, at his side.

Carole answered, her eyebrows lifting briefly in surprise as she said, "Boys."

"Hi," Blaine said, feeling hollowed out. "He's really – " _Drunk. Tired. Wrung out._

The answer died in his throat. For a moment, he didn't know what to do, where his place was in this strange little world anymore.

Then Kurt's hand tightened on his sleeve and he sighed and said softly, "It's okay."

Carole let them in.

Blaine guided Kurt upstairs carefully, conscious of Burt's eyes on their backs the whole way, wondering when the growl would come: _Get the hell away from my son._

It never came. Blaine's shoulders relaxed infinitesimally as he ushered Kurt down the empty hallway, weaving slightly with every step.

Kurt's room hadn't changed much, and it made Blaine's heart hurt as he looked around, _aching _with the familiarity. Still, Kurt was shivering at his side and Blaine knew that he would be more comfortable once he was settled, so he nudged him to sit at the foot of the bed and knelt to remove his shoes.

It was a slow process, a calming one. Kurt's laces were done impeccably, requiring nimble hands to undo them. Blaine didn't allow himself to think of the nights when Kurt was too drunk or sad to do this on his own, instead having to sleep somewhere with them on because Blaine was gone, gone, gone.

Focusing on the present, he straightened, feeling Kurt's fingers tangle in his shirt seconds before he was pulled into a hug.

It was a horrible angle for his back, but that didn't matter as he wrapped his own arms around Kurt's and hugged back as hard as he dared.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

Every heart beat seemed to echo the desire.

Blaine found that he couldn't bring himself to pull away, letting Kurt cling to him, clinging back until every raw emotion just underneath the surface seemed in danger of breaking free.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

He pulled away first, feeling Kurt cling to him a moment longer before at last gently letting him go. The fatigue in his expression was plain as he slumped, already pawing for the blankets, unconcerned about the rumpled jacket around his shoulders.

"Hey," Blaine whispered, tucking a hand around his shoulders again – the way Kurt _melted _into his half-embrace made his heart ache anew – and tugging upward. "Pajamas, okay?"

Kurt nodded, carefully undoing his own pants as Blaine rooted through his closet for a comfy outfit. Turning around, he saw looking at the floor, cheeks red as he stood, looking small and leaner than Blaine remembered in nothing but his briefs.

Handing the clothes over quickly, Blaine helped steady him as Kurt shakily pulled the clothes on.

Blaine turned back the sheets for him, waiting for him to get settled so he could leave – and God, he hadn't thought about this, how hard it would be to _leave _again, to walk away from Kurt – but Kurt didn't crawl into bed at once.

Instead, he turned and pressed himself against Blaine, hugging him until Blaine felt the anguish and loss and heartache.

_He's my person, _he'd sobbed at an early therapy session, when sleeping pills had looked too desirable and the days between each sleepless were blurring. _What am I supposed to do without him?_

_I think that's exactly the question you need to be asking yourself, _his therapist had replied. _You're someone, too._ _You were yours before you were ever his._

Rubbing Kurt's back slowly, feeling the tension ease from them both as their breathing synced, he waited until he felt Kurt pull back before catching him gently by the elbows and meeting his gaze.

"We'll get better," he whispered, watching the incomprehension fade to relief on Kurt's face as he nodded. He let him go, waiting until he'd settled himself in the bed before tiptoeing to the door, sparing one last glance for him and finding Kurt's gaze on him. "Go to sleep," he urged, watching Kurt's little nod before he turned and tucked himself into his pillow.

Blaine left and closed the door behind him, feeling simultaneously sore and relieved.

_He is not your ending. You were someone before he came into your life, and you're someone now, too. And I know you're hurting, but you need to understand that the pain you're feeling right now isn't because you're broken. You're trying to cope with something that you haven't had to in years. You will find a way because you had a life before him and you can have one after him, too._

Sitting in his car alone for a long moment, Blaine thought, _I can have a life after him, too._

_But do I want one without him?_

To that, he had no answer. But he was determined to find out.


End file.
